


Tell Me About Her

by crieshavoc



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post S2, and thus character death, references soccercop, the hendrixes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crieshavoc/pseuds/crieshavoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place six months after the end of Season 2. References Soccercop. Alison and Donnie have a conversation, because he deserves to know, and because Alison wants (and deserves) to move forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me About Her

                Taking a deep breath in through her nose, Alison glanced one more time at the green mobile clutched in her hand. Cosima’s encouragements filled the screen as she reread the texts. _You can do this, Alison_ , she thought, closing her eyes briefly. _He deserves to know_. Alison turned, unnecessarily smoothing her immaculate bangs under her favorite pink headband.

                “Donnie?” She called into the next room, voice sounding shrill even to her ears.

                Instead of shouting back a reply, as he would have six months ago, even with their children asleep upstairs, her lump of a husband shuffled into the kitchen moments later. With an empty glass in his hand.

                “You called, my dear?” He gave her a lopsided grin as he walked past and proceeded to wash his dirty glass. And put it away. Without being asked.

                _He’s still trying_. Alison blinked. She had expected his efforts to fade. Sure, right after the whole burying-a-dead-body-in-the-garage episode Donnie had been more attentive. Their sex life had certainly rebounded. And Donnie no longer needed reminding to mow the lawn. He took a larger role in ferrying Oscar and Gemma to their activities, too. He even started running again. It was sweet, and Alison was glad for it, but she _had_ expected the laziness to creep back in – just as Donnie’s waistline had crept steadily outward after their wedding, but after six months, Donnie was still beating her expectations. _And he is significantly less lumpy_.

                “Ali?”

                Donnie’s large, warm hand was on her arm. Alison jumped and met his eye. “I – I need to tell you something. Can we – um – why don’t you fix yourself a drink and we’ll go downstairs?” She smiled weakly, hand fluttering to her neck and cheek.

                He looked for a moment like he would argue, but nodded instead, “Okay.” Donnie leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple before turning to the highest cabinet in the kitchen, where they had agreed he could keep a bottle – _one_ – of alcohol. He’d picked bourbon.

                Alison swallowed the lump in her throat, mind drifting to nights full of alcohol and pills and kisses. _He deserves to know_ , she thought again, _I just hope we can survive this, too_. She wanted them to. She wanted Donnie, and the kids, and this family, but she was part of _another family_. The trick was trying to merge them. The trick was rising from the ashes, stumbling out of the shadow of DYAD, and learning to live with the memories.

                Donnie turned back to her and gestured toward the stairs. “After you,” he said, pleasantly, courteously, without a trace of condescension (that had long since stopped).

                Alison nodded, jerkily, and tried to walk normally. Her legs felt like jello. _Helena loves jello_. She was lightheaded. _Like Cosima when she gets stoned_. Her breath caught in her throat again with each step, each stair. _Did Rachel feel this way when she saw her father again? Was she afraid to face him? No, stop it._ She needed Tony’s fearlessness now, Felix’s quick wit, Sarah’s bravery. She needed to do this, not just because Donnie deserved to know, but for herself. For _her_. Alison needed to be strong, and straightforward, and unapologetic, like – like _her_. Like Beth.

                When they reached the basement (after what felt like an eternity), Donnie and Alison sat facing each other. Close, close enough that he could reach out and put his hand on her knee. She jumped again, when he did, and focused back on the here and now to see her more-attentive, less-lumpy husband looking at her with concern plain on his face.

                “What’s up, Alison?” He asked, gently and softly and his eyes were so open and loving and _he deserves to know_.

                Even if it was so effing painful, Donnie did deserve her honestly. He’d earned it. Burying Leekie, threatening a cop, even going to DYAD to try and talk sense into Rachel. And, if Alison was truly honest with _herself_ , she wanted this last secret laid to rest. She had Donnie back, her family was safe (at least for now), and she really did love him. It was painful, yes, but she _needed_ to tell him about….

                “Beth.”

                The name hung between them, and Alison felt less like she was suffocating, if only because Donnie failed to notice how the whole world sighed around them, as if the very _air_ was saying _finally_ in a tone of voice that immediately brought Felix to mind.

                “Beth… Childs, right?” Donnie ventured, looking up as he tried to remember.

                “Yes. I – she – we – oh, fuck it,” Alison slapped her hands on her thighs, missing how Donnie’s eyes widened in amused disbelief at the curse. “We had an affair. For six months. Until she….” Alison distantly noted that she was shaking. “You were oblivious. About _everything_. It was just us and Cosima and the German, but Beth was the only one to talk to her until Sarah. Cosima was still in California, and then in Minneapolis. _We_ were the only ones to meet in person, and she, well–”

                She lost track of her words and let them fade, shaking her head. She was crying. Alison sobbed, unable to continue with the explanation she’d rehearsed.

                Donnie was still as stone, mouth gaping.

                With a haggard breath, Alison tried to at least hit the other bullet points. “It was surreal – _unreal_ – and with anyone else – I would never. They’re my _sisters_. Except for Felix and Tony,” she added, waving a hand. “Obviously. They’re my brothers, but with Beth it was _different_.” Speaking through tears was never Alison’s strong suit, but actually _telling Donnie about Beth_ was overwhelming. No, overwhelming was an understatement. She didn’t have a word for the absolute disaster of emotions rushing through her: delayed grief, lingering guilt that their relationship had helped Beth walk off that platform at Huxley because everything was so _effing complicated_ , relief to finally say it out loud, fear of Donnie’s inevitable anger and confusion and rejection, and _Jesus Murphy the kids_ – but then Beth’s crooked smile swam out of buried memory, and Alison shuddered.

                Donnie still hadn’t said anything. He took a large swallow of his drink and stared down into it.

                “I’m not sorry.” Emphatic. “At least,” Alison cringed, “not sorry like I am about Chad.” She wiped her face, feeling calmer now. “I don’t, I _can’t_ , regret it. I needed Beth and she needed me, but, obviously, it’s over now.” Alison attempted to laugh, but the sound died halfway into the air. “Donnie please say something.”

                Donnie took a deep breath. Donnie set his glass down on the table – on a coaster, even. He turned to her and took both her hands in his. He ducked his head until Alison met his gaze.

                “Tell me about her.”

                Alison blinked, utterly confused. “What?” Confused wasn’t even the word. _I need to buy a thesaurus_.

                “I didn’t know her, Beth,” Donnie looked away but only for a second – a second of his face contorting in pain and Alison stopped breathing, “but she protected you and cared for you and you clearly loved her and –” Donnie stopped and closed his eyes. A tear ran down his significantly-less-lumpy cheek and Alison squeezed his hands. He squeezed back.

                “If it wasn’t for her, for _Beth_ , I might have lost you forever. I might not have had the chance, the opportunity, to fight for you and make up for years of being a slob and taking you for granted and everything else _shitty_ that I did.” Donnie opened his eyes and tried to smile.

                Alison managed to smile back and felt a weight dissolve in her chest, where her heart might be, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything. Not after the last year.

                “I owe Beth Childs a whole hell of a lot,” now Donnie was smiling, faintly, and Alison was _almost_ sure he’d never been so handsome. “And, uh, it was bound to happen, right?” He shrugged.

                “What do you mean?” Alison tilted her head, squeezing his hands again.

                Donnie looked uncomfortable and freed one hand from hers to reach for his drink, took a sip, and set it back before saying, “I accidentally overheard part of a conversation the last time we were at Felix’s, you know, for Extended Family Night.”

                Alison nodded. They’d established a tradition of descending upon Felix’s loft twice a month whether he liked it or not. Since Tony started coming around more often, he didn’t seem to mind as much, even when Cosima and Sarah showed up once or twice with Rachel in tow. _Rachel_ , whose redemption was still very much in process (her relentlessness had brought Helena and Delphine home two months ago, but _still_ ).

                “Cosima and Sarah were talking in the kitchen when I went to get some water, and uh, Cosima was saying something about an old debate among sci-fi geeks,” Donnie looked a bit sheepish, as if he just _knew_ he was going to butcher the explanation. “It, well, seemed to poise the question of which you would do if you met your own clone – fight them or, uh….” Donnie trailed off meaningfully, arching his brows until Alison connected the dots.

                “Oh,” she breathed, going red, “ _oh_ , but why – _why were Cosima and Sarah talking about that?_ Do you have any idea?” Alison found that herself leaning forward, eager.

                Donnie reached for his drink again, but only rested the glass on his knee, replying, “I don’t know, but they didn’t notice me. I rerouted for the bathroom because Rachel walked over and they shut up real fast, so I didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, even if it was an accident.” He knocked back the rest of the bourbon and replaced the empty tumbler on the table in front of them.

                Alison hummed, absorbing the information and nodding absently. “Well, that’s peculiar. I’ll ask Felix if he knows anything about it the next time we see him. Okay, so, I get your point. About the theoretical inevitability of some of us, well, you know.” She waved a hand again and Donnie nodded back.

                “Right, so, I obviously can’t thank Beth for all she did for you, for all of us, so…. Tell me about her.” Donnie’s smile slipped a bit, “Part of me is hurt, sure, but after everything? Now? I’m just glad someone was there for you. Like I should have been. I’m glad you’re alive and sitting here with me. So, tell me all about this woman who turned your life upside down, who killed to keep you and Cosima safe, who was there for you when I was _blind_.” He grimaced and shook it off and, with visible effort, turned it into an encouraging smile. “Tell me about Beth.”

                Alison’s cheeks hurt, and she was realized she was smiling. Grinning even. She nodded, no longer teary, and took a moment to think. _Where to start?_

                “Beth, she had this crooked smile, and this arrogant swagger – not as proud as Sarah’s, or as loose as Tony’s, but you could tell she knew she had an effect on people, she….”


End file.
